


Dog Days

by wheel_pen



Series: Darkwood Eastport [7]
Category: Lie to Me (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fish out of Water, Magic, Polygamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 21:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3624864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cal and Ria go on an expedition to another city to obtain some dogs from the Humane Society for the family. Ria questions the purity of Cal’s motives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dog Days

**Author's Note:**

> The bad words are censored; that’s just how I do things. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play in this universe. I’ve given a lot of thought to the Darkwood culture, so if something seems confusing, feel free to ask. I hope you enjoy!

_End of first summer_

Cal peered through the bars of the large cage, distaste etched across his face. “I really don’t care for dogs,” he stated flatly.

Ria leaned her head in beside his and stared in the same direction. “I don’t either,” she agreed, wrinkling her nose at the distinctive acrid smell permeating the area. “Why are we here, then?”

Cal straightened up. “To buy some dogs, of course!”

“You just _said_ you didn’t like them!” Ria reminded him in frustration, following her husband to the next set of cages. She shied away as a particularly energetic dog leaped and yelped in her direction. “Why are you buying them?”

“Dinner,” Cal replied shortly; fortunately he was speaking in the Common Tongue, not English, so Ria didn’t have to assure the employee who was already watching them warily that he was just kidding. Which she was sure he was. Mostly.

“Well, what are you looking for?” Ria tried, attempting to make herself useful. When Cal had unexpectedly cornered her that morning and asked if she wanted to go ‘shopping’ with him in Calais—just the two of them—she had said yes first and asked questions later. Questions which Cal hadn’t bothered to answer, of course. And her own speculations had _definitely_ not led her to this noisy, smelly Humane Society outpost in a shabby part of the city. A nice Mexican restaurant, maybe. A music store. Something related to the baby they’d just found out she would have in the spring, their first American baby, whose impending birth necessitated so many things she didn’t currently possess (at least according to the American baby books).

But no. They were at an animal shelter, a depressing warehouse of concrete floors and steels bars filled with unloved living beings and well-intentioned but underpaid laborers. It made Ria want to scoop up an armload of the whining creatures and make a run for it, even if she _didn’t_ like them very much.

“Cal? What kind of dog are you looking for?” Ria repeated when her husband didn’t respond. He did that a lot.

Another thing he did a lot was stare intently, but this time it was at a dog, not a person—a huge black dog, like a small bear Ria imagined, who slumped on the floor of his cage and barely cracked an eyelid when Cal tapped on the bars. “Pathetic,” he judged. “What’s wrong with this one?” he asked the hovering employee, in a tone of annoyance.

“Uh, he has _cancer_ ,” the young man replied, in a tone that undoubtedly usually shamed people who asked such thoughtless questions.

Of course, Cal wasn’t shamed by anything. “Cancer, huh? That’s fatal, right? What’re you keepin’ it around for?”

“Cal,” Ria hissed, in her best imitation of Gillian. He didn’t even glance at her, too focused on the young employee who was clearly upset by his tone.

“Actually, he’s on the euthanasia list,” the man admitted sadly. “We’re waiting for next week’s chemical shipment… It takes a lot for a dog that size, so he doesn’t suffer…”

Ria felt her eyes tingling as she watched the young man, who was probably barely out of his teens, struggle not to think too hard about the fate of the animal in front of them. The card on the front of the cage indicated the dog had been at the shelter a long time, at least what seemed like a long time to her. Had the dog been sick most of that time, and no one wanted to take on the burden of owning it? Or maybe it was just so big that few people had room for it to run and play, or whatever it was dogs did that they needed to do to be healthy. The young man had probably seen it every day, watched it get sicker and sicker, watched it stop trying to catch the eye of a prospective owner, watched the hope drain away from it, stuck in this metal box in a concrete room, not so different from the squalid concrete rooms she’d grown up in herself…

“You need to work on your professional detachment,” Cal advised the doleful young man. Then he glanced back at Ria, who was trying to discreetly wipe her eyes. “Do you need to wait in the car?” he asked unkindly, as though she were as pathetic as the dog.

Her temper flared at his tone. “No. I’m _fine_ ,” she replied shortly. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of driving her out of the shelter. She could handle it.

“Good.” He turned back to the employee. “We’ll take this one, then.” Cal tapped the top of the large, black dog’s cage, much to both Ria and the young man’s surprise. “Who else is on the kill list?”

“What—you mean you _want_ this dog?” Ria asked in confusion.

“Sure, why not,” Cal shrugged, as if it were of no consequence. “He’ll make a good hunting dog for Eli.”

“Um, but he’s really sick,” the shelter employee pointed out, clearly not sure what he was dealing with here.

“What, too sick to move?” Cal asked, then answered his own question based on the man’s expression. “No, he’ll make the trip fine. We’re just down in Eastport. Got some lovely woods for him to run in. I think you’ll be surprised what some fresh country air will do for him.”

Ria blinked, suddenly comprehending Cal’s intent. He was going to have the servants heal a _dog_? A dog with a fatal illness? How much was _that_ going to cost them? Hey, not that she didn’t feel _bad_ for the creature, but it seemed more than slightly excessive. She opened her mouth to tell him so.

He cut her off. “Rescue,” Cal told her off-hand. “Rescue points. Look, if you think I’m up to no good,” he added to the frowning employee, “why don’t you—or your boss, rather—call around and ask about me?” He flipped a business card out of his pocket. “Respected member of the community and all that. Not a dog torturer or anything. Although, under federal law in this country, if I could prove I had a certain percentage of Native American ancestry, I would be exempt from prosecution for certain acts of canine mutilation that were performed as part of a religious—“

“Cal!” Ria interrupted, just in time. She took his arm to better retain his attention and switched to Common Tongue. “You get rescue points for _animals_?” This concept was entirely new to her.

“Absolutely,” he replied, as though it should be obvious. “Compassion toward creatures in need and all.”

The shelter employee began to speak before Ria could question Cal further on this notion that rescuing a dog, like rescuing a person, actually _added_ to a clan’s energy instead of detracting from it. “Are you one of those… Darkwood people?” he asked, bending Cal’s card in his hand nervously.

“You hope we are,” Cal deduced. “Good. We are, in fact. Positive associations?”

“Well, I’ve just heard that you guys really like animals, and that you take good care of them,” the young man replied thoughtfully. “Those, er, clans in LA have adopted tons of animals from shelters.”

“Very true,” Cal agreed, at least to the last couple parts. “So there’s no trouble carting this one home with us, then?”

“Um, no, I guess it’s fine,” the employee replied, seemingly a bit in shock still. He shook his head. “After the weeklong waiting period, of course.”

Cal blinked at him. “Waiting period?”

“Sure, yeah, you fill out some paperwork and put down a deposit, and we get the dog checked out one more time by a vet, certify that he’s had all his shots, that kind of thing,” the young man explained, sounding more professional now.

“I can’t take it home today?” Ria rolled her eyes; she accepted that Cal didn’t like to research these little practical details, but if he had just _told_ her what he was up to, she would’ve done it _for_ him. Then they could’ve taken an ordinary car up here instead of that oversized SUV.

“No, sorry. State law. You still want him, though, right?” the employee added a bit anxiously.

“Well, yes, of course,” Cal insisted, still sounding annoyed. “But look, when I come back next week I’ll expect you to have not just the dog ready to go, but any accessories I’ll need for him—bowl, food, whatever _dog things_. You sell them here, right?” he asked the bemused young man. “Well just pick out whatever you think is best and have the bill ready when I come back. That’s not so difficult, is it?”

The employee was grinning now, though Cal had revealed no hint of amusement. “No, sir, not too difficult!”

“Good.” Cal glanced around the room of cages. “Now, I asked you before—who else is on the kill list?”

**

It took over an hour to fill out all the paperwork for the dogs Cal had chosen— _dogs_ plural, which Ria still couldn’t believe, even though she was the one writing their address over and over. Cal had delegated that task to her in favor of regaling their now deliriously-happy helper with tales from his globe-trotting adventures, some of which tangentially involved animals. “—and in part of New Guinea they honor their ancestors by consuming their brains after death—“

“No way!”

“Absolutely. So naturally when I was there I was invited to—“

“All done!” Ria announced loudly, just in time.

Cal broke off his story regretfully. “Already? Hmm, that must not have been as difficult as it looked.”

Ria gritted her teeth. “Sign here, here, here, here, and here,” she indicated to him.

“Where? Oh, _here_. I expect if I signed _there_ , you’d have to do the whole form over again,” Cal remarked innocently. Not that anything he did was really innocent. Ria chose to take the high road and not respond—verbally anyway, which didn’t do much good with someone like Cal anyway. “So you’re going to have everything ready for next week, then?” he confirmed with the employee.

“Yes, sir! I’ll call the day before and let you know for sure.”

“Good. Thanks for your help,” Cal added as he stuffed an impressive wad of cash into the ‘donations’ box on the counter. The employee’s eyes bugged out for not the first time that day, and he couldn’t manage to get a response out before Cal and Ria turned and left.

Impulsively Ria grabbed Cal’s hand as they crossed the mostly-empty parking lot. “Something wrong?” he asked mildly, even though she was smiling at him.

“No. Just—it was nice. To know that we’re going to help some of those animals,” she tried to explain. Cal always managed to surprise her, just when she made the mistake of thinking she had him more or less figured out. “What made you decide to do it?”

He unlocked the SUV and opened her door for her. “Oh, you know they’ve been whining about a dog since before we got here,” he pointed out, meaning the children. Pets were not bred in the Valley and thus were in short supply there. “They’ve got ‘em all over the place here,” he added when he had climbed into his own seat. “Seemed like a good time.”

“You talked to Gillian about this first, right?” Ria checked, then wished she hadn’t when he gave her a look. “Right, of course you did. I’m the last to know, right?” Figured.

“Well, the kids don’t know,” Cal replied as they pulled out onto the road. “It’s supposed to be a surprise for them.”

It was still nice, Ria told herself. They were rescuing animals, the kids would be thrilled, and the servants could probably keep them away from her if she asked. She was just mildly annoyed that once again, she hadn’t been consulted. “Well, guess we didn’t need this whole thing today, did we?” she couldn’t help but point out, indicating the vehicle. She didn’t mean to be smug, but Cal wasn’t often unprepared.

“No, guess not,” he agreed, unperturbed. “Well,” he added after a pause, “if we’re not hauling dogs home today, I guess we can stop by that Babies R Us store on the highway. If you want.”

Ria stared at him and finally saw the faintest bit of a smirk creep across his face. And she knew she’d been had. “You _knew_ we couldn’t pick up the dogs today!” she accused, torn between pleasure and exasperation.

“Of _course_ ,” Cal replied, chuckling. “I did my homework before embarking on this expedition.”

“I _cannot_ believe you sometimes,” was all Ria could think to say.

“I think this is the only Mexican restaurant in all of New England,” Cal exaggerated, nodding at a building up ahead. “D’you want to stop for lunch first?” Of course she did. But he knew that already.

**

A week later, the trip back home in the SUV was not nearly as pleasant, as the vehicle was filled with confused, protesting dogs instead of bags of ladybug-themed baby products. Ria didn’t really understand why _she_ was required to help out on this task, though she’d spent a good deal of time contemplating the subject in light of the few talents and assets she possessed. She didn’t even _like_ dogs, so it really made no sense at all.

She glanced over and saw Cal bobbing his head in time to a song playing on the radio, which she couldn’t even hear over the dogs’ yowling. She reached over and gave the volume knob a twist, then grimaced when she recognized the music. “G-d, this song is so cheesy,” she commented to Cal.

He gave her an inscrutable look. “It’s ABBA,” he told her, which she already knew. “It’s a _classic_.”

“Sorry, I forgot how much time you spent in Sweden,” Ria replied, rolling her eyes. She supposed she should be grateful he wasn’t insisting they listen to his ‘Viking punk rock’ CDs. She turned the volume back down so she at least didn’t have to hear it. “How come you decided to get dogs?” she asked conversationally after a moment. “I didn’t think you really liked animals at all.”

“I don’t,” he agreed. “Their presence has been shown to be therapeutic in a number of circumstances, but I find companion animals to be largely pointless.” They had a barn full of cows and chickens behind the house, but Ria supposed they had value to Cal because they produced milk and eggs for the family to eat.

“So?” she prompted. “Why dogs, then?”

Cal shrugged. “It’s the American way, innit? A nice family with a dog?”

She knew she wasn’t getting the whole story, and that she might _never_ get it. “I would’ve thought you were more of a cat person,” she teased. “Cats are kind of sneaky and sly.”

He grinned, seemingly in spite of himself, and Ria felt a thrill of elation at the connection. “Nah, couldn’t handle the competition,” he told her. “I like to be the only sneaky and sly one around the house. Dogs are open and friendly. Everybody loves dogs. Well, almost everybody.”

“I bet Eli’s a dog person,” Ria assessed.

“Exactly,” Cal agreed. “And who doesn’t like Eli? I mean, when he shot somebody, they probably said, ‘Thanks so much, lovely to meet you’ before keeling over dead.”

Ria let out a burst of shocked laughter. “That’s a terrible thing to say!”

“But you’re still laughing,” he pointed out with a smirk. And she had to admit, she wasn’t really offended—she was enjoying the relaxed rapport between them too much. It seemed all too rare that she spent time with Cal without feeling judged or toyed with, when they could just have fun and show affection for each other without any kind of challenge or test being involved. It felt nice, the way she imagined Gillian _always_ felt with Cal. If she could feel this way more often, she thought, the tests and judgments might not be so frustrating. Ria enjoyed a challenge, after all. She just didn’t want to have to work so hard _all_ the time.

But of course the good mood couldn’t last forever. Cal’s whole posture seemed to change, though subtly, as they crossed the bridge onto Moose Island and spotted the first houses of the little village of Quoddy peeking through the trees. Ria didn’t fully understand all the terms and conditions of Darkwood life in Eastport—it was Cal and Gillian who went to the weekly meetings, after all—but the clans had decided that all of the island would be considered their home, in a sense, which was why, for example, the women weren’t required to cover their hair while strolling the streets of Eastport. Remembering this, Ria tugged off the unpleasantly warm headscarf that made her stand out even more in Calais. Its removal made her feel freer and more comfortable, almost as comfortable as in the Valley, and she was once again grateful that they hadn’t been part of the first wave of settlers to America, the LA clans who possessed opulent mansions but rarely left them—except to go to _other_ opulent mansions. Ria would have gone crazy being stifled like that.

But returning to the island seemed to have the opposite effect on Cal—he suddenly seemed less relaxed, less carefree, though he hid it so well Ria doubted many people would even notice. Despite the clothing restrictions, she had enjoyed the trips to Calais, she realized, because the two of them had been able to act like, well, husband and wife, just a couple out enjoying the day together, eating lunch where they wanted, going shopping, picking up a carload of dogs. Maybe Cal had enjoyed that aspect as well—he had looked like he did, anyway. But perhaps returning to the island reminded him that he _wasn’t_ just a husband with a wife and a baby on the way—he was the head of a clan, responsible for the health and well-being of twenty other people, not to mention a highly visible member of the community they were trying so hard to integrate into… while also safeguarding their most important cultural traditions in a strange land. It was a different and possibly heavier burden than the head of a clan carried when ensconced safely within the Valley among people of similar heritage, which Ria had never considered before. Maybe it wasn’t a surprise that Cal poked and prodded her when she made irrational decisions or grew overconfident in her judgments, when he had all that on his mind already.

Ria was startled out of her revery by an off-key clash of drums and guitar blaring from the speakers, accompanied by guttural growling in a language she didn’t understand. Cal was tapping his hand against the steering wheel and mouthing the words to the latest monstrosity by Bloodaxe or Hammer of Thor or whatever the ridiculous name of the band was, and _not_ looking very much like a man contemplating his considerable responsibilities. Especially when he howled along with the wordless chorus. And the dogs in the back joined in. Ria rolled her eyes and slumped back in her seat, looking forward to a long, hot, _quiet_ bath that evening.

Cal pulled the vehicle into their long driveway, the gate automatically opened for them by the watchful servants, and rolled down the tree-lined lane, slowing to better keep a lookout for errant children. When the main door of the house finally came into view he pulled around in front of it instead of going into the garage; the car was immediately surrounded by children who had no doubt been alerted to the surprise he was bringing. Not that it was hard to guess what that surprise _was_ when he cut the engine, letting the sounds of barking fill the air.

“What is it? It’s a dog! Daddy got us a dog! I _told_ you he would! No, _I_ said he would! What kind of dog is it? What should we name it? Let’s name it Smoky! Let’s name it Pongo! Let’s name it Fred!”

Cal waded through the sea of children to reach the back of the SUV, handily ignoring the questions being lobbed at him. “Quiet down!” he instructed. “Quiet down and listen!” The children stopped squealing, a far more rapid and complete response than Ria ever seemed to get. Cal gave each of the children a serious look. “Now, these dogs must be treated _gently_ , you understand? Like the farm animals. The servants are going to take care of them until they get used to living here, and then _you_ will take turns looking after them.” Just like with the farm animals. “Also, there will be _no dogs_ in bedrooms”—groans of protest went up from children who had just been dreaming of sleeping with a furry friend at night—“and in other designated non-pet areas,” Cal continued, a bit louder. He paused dramatically, impressing each child with the seriousness of the dictums. Then suddenly he grinned. “You want to see them?” A cheer arose from the children and Cal nodded towards the servants, who had appeared with a ramp.

It had taken all the coaxing and treats at the shelter workers’ disposal to get some of the dogs into the cages in the vehicle an hour earlier. Fortunately, getting them _out_ was not as difficult. “Okay, do the black one first,” Cal instructed as a servant opened the back of the SUV and climbed in. “That one there. Now everyone back up and give him some room.” The enormous black dog cautiously maneuvered down the ramp, looked around at the now-silent, overawed children, and plopped down on the driveway for a rest.

“Can we pet him?” asked an eager young voice.

“One at a time, very carefully,” Cal allowed. “Don’t startle him, he’s a bit sick. But he’ll be better soon.”

“What an awesome dog!” Eli declared, leading the charge to pet the beast. “He’s huge! Is he part Newfie?”

“I have no idea,” Cal admitted. Not being a dog person, he couldn’t recognize most breeds on sight. Nor did he wish, at any point, to actually touch one. “You want to see another one?” he asked the children instead, fearing the single ill dog was not up to handling all the attention. “Yeah, get that one there.”

The next dog was far more energetic, too much so really, which was why it had been scheduled for termination. In technical terms, it was a _mutt_ , what Ria thought of as the generic _dog_ someone would draw if asked. As soon as it was freed from its cage it bolted from the vehicle, running around the cluster of people, barking excitedly. This suited the children fine, who began to chase it with equal enthusiasm. Cal let them go, knowing the dog wasn’t able to leave their property.

“Take that one out back,” he told the servants, who lifted down a large cage containing a third dog.

A few of the older children had resisted running after the other dog. “Is he _asleep_?” Alice asked dubiously.

“Nah, he’s dead,” her father tossed off.

“Cal!” warned Gillian, finally joining the fray from the house.

“They’re teenagers, they can handle the cycle of life and death,” he protested. Well, they were more or less teenagers—pre-teen Julia and Louisa seemed pleased to be included with the older group. And Mark probably hadn’t heard anything Cal had said, engrossed as he was in petting the large black dog who rested in the driveway. “He’s sedated,” he finally explained when it was obvious no one believed him. “He’s had a tough life and we’re going to keep him away from the others until he gets used to being here. Okay, that one,” he went on to the servants, indicating the last of the large cages.

The door was opened and a golden-brown collie emerged, padding down the ramp with great poise and dignity. Gillian drew in a sharp breath and dropped to her knees in front of the dog immediately. “Oh! What a beautiful dog! Hello! Yes, you’re _so_ pretty, aren’t you?” The animal seemed friendly enough and soon Gillian was hugging it and petting its long coat. “Oh, you look _just like_ the dog I had when I was a little girl!” she told it, obviously moved by the memory. “Her name was Ladybird. Maybe that’s what I’ll call you.” The dog offered no objection.

Ria glanced at Cal and saw the intensity with which he regarded Gillian, and suddenly she realized why, exactly, he’d decided to give in and get the dogs, and possibly even why he’d asked _her_ to accompany him on the trip—anything Gillian wanted he tried to get for her, it seemed, even if she hadn’t asked for it. She’d probably mentioned something once about the dog she’d had as a child, and ever since then Cal had no doubt been searching for just the perfect creature to surprise her with—and the whole thing about making a ‘nice American family’ and getting ‘rescue points’ was just a cover story, or at least a side benefit. Ria decided she really should have known Cal’s motives would be less straightforward than he’d claimed. And that pleasing Gillian would be involved somehow. She couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever gone to that much trouble to make _her_ happy, and her mind came up blank.

An insistent barking and giggling distracted her from her brooding and the mutt jogged back into view, followed by several of the younger children. The dog had apparently met its match in the pint-sized mob and collapsed on the grass in front of the house, panting. “What a great dog! He’s so much fun! Thanks, Dad! Oh, look, another one!” They began to swarm the collie excitedly.

Suddenly a shrill scream rent the air and everyone turned to the porch. A little red-haired girl in a purple dress stood there, looking out on the three large dogs with horror. They weren’t anywhere near her when she actually screamed; but, being dogs, all three sensed her dislike of them and began to venture towards her.

“Bring her to me,” Cal instructed, and a tall servant scooped the little girl up and traversed the herd of dogs to deposit her in Cal’s arms. Although Laura didn’t get into town much, at least during the day, she’d encountered some large dogs on other Darkwood properties and they had made a distinct and unpleasant impression on her. “Well, you can’t please everyone,” Cal noted dryly as the girl clung to him, sobbing.

“Come on, let’s take these guys around back and show them their new home,” Eli suggested. “They’re going to live in that new little barn! Won’t that be nice? Come on!” The children eagerly followed him with the three large dogs, being quite used to this particular sister bursting into loud, dramatic tears.

“Oh, Fifi honey, the dogs won’t hurt you,” Gillian insisted to her, rubbing her back as Cal held her. “They just want to be friends! And you know the servants wouldn’t let anything happen to you!”

The reasonable approach did not seem to be working, which could make things difficult around the house until Laura got used to seeing the big dogs. Well, even Ria knew the futility of trying to accommodate _everyone_ in their large family, as Cal had mentioned.

“Here, hand me the last one,” Cal told a servant, who freed the fifth and last dog they had acquired in Calais. It was quite a bit smaller than the others, small enough that he could easily grip it in one hand while supporting Laura with the other. Gillian tutted her disapproval of the arrangements, however; she was always afraid her husband was going to injure himself lifting something someday. “Now, look at this little one,” he suggested soothingly to Laura. “He’s not gonna hurt you, is he? Look how small he is. And, er, cute.”

Ria smirked a bit, out of sight; she and Cal had spent several minutes discussing how _not_ cute they found this particular dog, with its large ears, beady eyes, and scrawny body. Vaguely rodent-like, they had decided, in fact. But his lie was enough to pique the interest of a beleaguered six-year-old.

“He _is_ small,” Laura agreed, sniffling. “He’s funny-looking.”

“He’s a _Chihuahua_ ,” Cal revealed, as if this were somehow magical. “Put your hand near his nose so he can smell you. That’s it.” The little dog licked her hand suddenly and Laura squealed, though not necessarily with fear. “There now, I think he likes you. You want to hold him? There you go.”

Cal set the little girl on the ground, watching as she continued to pet the small dog. Hmm, getting Laura over her fear of dogs would be _another_ side benefit to this plan, Ria decided. She tried to remember if Cal had been especially interested in the Chihuahua at the shelter—had he planned _this_ from the beginning, as well? Wondering what exactly he’d set up, and what he merely took advantage of when it presented itself, could drive a person crazy.

“Oh, _another_ dog!” A few of the children had drifted back around front and were drawn to Laura’s new canine friend. “It’s just a small one! It’s so funny-looking! Look at its ears!”

“It’s _mine_ ,” Laura declared boldly. “Daddy said I could have it. I’m going to name him Tiki and tie a purple ribbon around his collar!”

Objections arose immediately. “He can’t be _yours_! The dogs are for everyone! You can’t _name_ him! Daddy, Laura says—“

“Be gentle with the dog,” Cal admonished vaguely, ignoring the tussle for dominance among the children. “Take him around back. Go play.” He shooed them away, not really listening as the argument faded into the distance.

The servants were busy unloading the dog accessories from the vehicle; the LA clans had had pets for a while now and their servants had passed the knowledge of how to care for them in America on to the Eastport servants, so Cal was confident the new ‘dog barn’ would be set up properly. Nonetheless he’d already issued the invitation for Dr. Carlisle White Stag to come over and inspect it sometime, given that the doctor had been the first Darkwood person in Eastport to acquire pets; he was now considered something of an authority on them.

The majority of the excitement seemed to be over, Ria saw, so she was about to go inside and check on the babies, maybe watch the children play with the dogs from a safe distance, when she realized that her exit would leave Cal and Gillian alone in the front yard. And everyone knew what they got up to the minute they were alone. And Gillian would no doubt be especially grateful to Cal right now. So Ria crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the back of the SUV, pointedly _not_ giving them any privacy.

Gillian smiled at Cal from her position about six feet away, her body language awkward. He could hardly stand still watching her and finally shoved his hands in his pockets. Ria _almost_ felt sorry for the two of them. “The dogs you got are wonderful,” Gillian told him, apparently forgetting about Ria’s participation in the acquisition. “I’m sure the children will love them.”

“Well, you know…” Cal cleared his throat. “Dogs are nice. Very, um…”

“Furry?” Ria supplied pointedly.

He shot a glare at her. “Thank you,” he told her meanly, obviously displeased with her continued presence.

Gillian took a step towards him and his attention was immediately drawn back to her. Acting as if she were being very bold, Gillian took his hands then gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you,” she told him again, and his grin could’ve powered the whole house. Then she pulled away quickly and hurried back into the house, pausing once on the porch steps to turn back and look at him again. He didn’t stop staring at the door until several seconds after it had closed behind her.

“You two are _disgusting_ ,” Ria opined, and Cal turned on her with an inscrutable gaze. “Do you always have to be so—so—seventeen and delirious?”

Cal blinked in surprise, then started to laugh, which didn’t exactly improve Ria’s mood. Okay, it probably hadn’t been the _best_ description of their behavior, but still. He continued to chuckle as he stepped closer to her and pinned her against the side of the vehicle. “Did you have fun, goin’ to get the dogs?” he asked conversationally, sliding his hands around her waist.

The desire to smack him away was lessening. “I suppose,” Ria admitted, grudgingly.

“You had more fun than Gillian would have,” he pointed out. “She doesn’t like goin’ places as much. She _worries_.” He punctuated this statement by leaning down and nibbling Ria’s ear.

She sighed and relaxed against him, trying to remember why she’d been angry at him. She knew there had been a good reason—there always was—but sometimes it was hard to concentrate under the intensity of Cal’s affections. He had, after all, chosen _her_ to go on this expedition, and not anyone else. Which had to count for _something_.


End file.
